Baie des Anges, France 1959

This gelatin silver print, Baie des Anges, France, was made by Bill Brandt sometime in the 20th Century, and it gives me a sense of intimacy, as if I were right there with Brandt when he created it. I imagine Brandt at the beach, perhaps after a day swimming, relaxing, building a stone cairn. Brandt's hands loom large in the frame, monumental in form and close to the lens. They have the mass of Henry Moore sculptures, a kind of reclining figure in grayscale. I think about the other black and white images of the period, the sharp and contrasty photos of Kertesz or Brassai, and it strikes me that Brandt had a very different thing in mind. The fingers form a kind of barrier to the shore, casting shadows on the rounded stones below. It's easy to see how artists might find inspiration, maybe consciously, maybe not, from the art that came before. Each gesture is a conversation, an evolution, a response. And that's where the magic happens, in the exchange, the dialogue, the shared human experience.